


Always The Villain

by deathbyfluff



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Author is a Clay | Dream Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt No Comfort, Prisoner Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Redemption, Sad Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), no it's not the same thing, they wanted him to be an antagonist instead of a villain, well not really but they were dissapointed with his character development
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:54:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29629401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbyfluff/pseuds/deathbyfluff
Summary: He only ever wanted the fighting to stop.It was funny really how people only saw what they wanted to see.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 447
Collections: Dream SMP fics





	Always The Villain

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I was really hoping for r!dream to be an antagonist rather then a villain.  
> This is my attempt to try and explain what I think his reaosning for his actions was.
> 
> Enjoy :)

Dream was lying on the floor. Water dripped down the dark obsidian walls, the extreme condensation caused by the mass heat admitting from the lava door. If it could even be called a door. The cell’s temperature was extremely mismatched. The front of the cell was too hot, sweat rolling off Dream when getting near to it. The back of his cell was cool but the obsidian was cold to the touch meaning he was only comfortable when standing. So Dream had decided that he would rather be too cold than too hot and was now sitting in the back corner of the room.

He hadn’t seen or talked to another human being in what felt like months. Sam had fully automated the prison, leaving no reason for him to come check on Dream. The glowstone that was supposed to fill his cell with light was dark and dingy. The extreme heat and immense condensation creating a rust like disease on the normally bright block. 

They were so dull by now that he might as well have no light. He had become used to being unable to see, to being almost blind. The only light in the room was the shine of the lava reflecting off the gold of his clock and the shards off his mask.

Both were thrown at the wall at the beginning of his stay, though for different reasons. The clock was the first to go, it had only been hours since Sam had informed him he would no longer be visiting Dream. Dream had thrown the clock at the obsidian wall in a fit of fear masked by anger. He didn’t want to be alone at the time, although now he had gotten so used to being by himself he wasn’t sure if he could ever cope with human interaction again.

The mask had gone a couple weeks later. It was a moment of self-hatred. A moment that would soon spread to become his entire being. He was a monster, a tyrant. He was the villain. He hurt people, all he could ever do was hurt people. The mask was a symbol of that. It sat on the ground where he had put it, grinning as it watched him fall apart. 

That’s what people thought he was. An emotionless monster. A masked villain. A crazed psychopath. That mask taunted and reminded him of that and before he could stop himself he had thrown it against the wall. As the mask shattered, so did his resolve. He had played the villain for them. He had made them the heroes in their story. He had never complained about their treatment, only listening to their insults, taking every word to heart.

He sometimes wonders how things are getting on outside the prison. Sam had taken his communicator and admin table, leaving him unable to contact anyone. Even though they would be unable to open his admin table without his powers, Dream still disliked them having a personal object that held so much power.

He had always vowed to never abuse his admin powers. He had never planned to use his admin powers for any political arguments on the server. He had never used /kill or /clear on any of them. He had never used it to manipulate the weather over there lands, or to stop them in any way. He had never used his teleportation when fighting. And when they put him in prison he wasn’t planning to use it to get out.

He had decided to let them lock him up. He would take whatever punishment they gave him, he deserved it after all. He thought he would be left here for a couple of weeks, maybe a month or two. He had never expected it to be this long and he would be lying to say he didn’t think about teleporting out.

He dreamed of escaping. Not just the prison but the whole server, the people who claimed to be family but who turned their backs on him just as quick. He wanted to get away from those who he invited to his server, only to be painted a tyrant for trying to keep his rules upheld. 

His rules were simple: No griefing, no stealing and no drugs. He thought they were fair, they had worked before. If rules were broken he would step in to try and keep the peace, to prevent revenge and eventual war.

God if only it had been that simple.

He had invited Wilbur and Tommy to join his server, he had invited them into his home. He hadn’t expected them to start a drug dealing business. That was already breaking a rule. On top of that majority of what they were using to make their potions was stolen goods. He had been away at the time. He was out at the smp’s border, checking and enforcing them to prevent unwanted guests. He had received a call from a couple of anxious smp members, a few of which were frustrated with being stolen from.

He had returned to the smp, in the hopes of quickly stopping the idea before it got out of hand.

That didn’t work.

It got out of hand.

L’manberg was born. Dream didn’t have a problem with countries. In fact, a country founded under any other circumstance would have been happily given independence. But this wasn’t a country, this was a scheme to hide the real business operations. He tried to keep the younger members out of it, he knew that Tommy and Tubbo genuinely believed they were building a country. They didn’t understand that Wilbur only ever wanted to sell drugs.

Soon new people joined the server. They started telling tales of their nation, white lies and fibs so intricately woven into truth that they even started to convince themselves. He was painted as a tyrant, a villain who had oppressed them and denied them their freedom. People believed them and started to ban together, only those present during the time knew the truth. But even then he knew it was hard for others to hear the insults.

He knew that they all had thought many times about joining L’manberg. It always is easy to be the hero. Praised and worshipped beyond your wildest dreams, treated with respect and kindness instead of the harsh and helfish words that would echo in their heads for weeks.

He knew his people were tiring. It was unfair of them to be treated like this. So he accepted Tommy’s duel. He didn’t want to fight Tommy, after all the boy was barely a child. But the lies had cocooned themselves so deeply in Tommy’s memories that he knew, ultimately Tommy would shoot. 

As much as he wanted to keep his family safe, he regrets to remember his inability to let Tommy win. He needed his people to trust him again, he needed them to trust that he would keep them safe. Both from the words and weapons of the supposed heros. But that wasn’t the ultimate reason he shot, he was still human after all and he refused to lose to the child. It was foolish of him, he knew but his self-worth had been so damaged by the destruction caused by the L’manbergians that he tried to turn the table and relearn it in theirs. 

It was then, Tommy came to him with an offer. His disc in return for L’manberg safety. Dream had almost scoffed at the deal, the discs had no worth or value to him, why would he take such a deal? As he looked into Tommy’s eyes he discovered what the real trade was. The discs and silent promise of peace, or more war and bloodshed. The L’manbergians were not going to go down without a fight. Dream knew that the smp would ultimately win the war. They had better fighters and more equipment but he had already taken one of Tommy’s lives. The child was 16 and already on 2 lives.

So Dream took the deal, whether it was for the good of his nation or theirs he didn’t know. Dream had enough of the fighting so when L’manberg started to expand into the Dream smp he didn’t complain. When they started claiming more land, he didn’t complain. They had gained independence for a tiny square of land but he never complained when L’manbergs size tripled. After all Tommy had given Dream the discs.

Tommy had given Dream the discs, they were his now, Dream owned them. So when he heard rumors of Tommy starting another war over the discs he was disappointed. Again the story was altered. ‘He TOOK MY disc,’ the rumors would repeat and Dream could feel his patience wearing. They were his discs now Tommy had no right to them, no ownership of them. 

It was desperation, ultimately, that led to him allowing Schlatt back onto the server. He knew Schlatt was a bad man, why do you think he had escorted him from the smp in the first place. But he also knew that the L’manbergians wanted Schlatt to join. He had hoped adding Schlatt would distract them for a little while, he had hoped it would extend the time of calm and peace on his server.

To his ultimate horror Schlatt had started chaos against L’manberg instead of him. He had run for president, making a last minute agreement with Quackity to join their votes in an attempt to gain multi-party leadership. Dream had nearly given up when he heard the news, this would be another thing he would gain the title of fault for. 

The scapegoat of the server. 

You're not granted your nation's independence because it’s literally a drug business. 

It’s Dream’s fault.

You beg for a man to join and when he’s finally added he takes over your country. 

It's Drean’s fault.

Someone steals from you.

It’s Dream’s fault.

It’s night-time. 

It’s Dream’s fault.

It was always his fault.

Schlatt exiled Tommy and Wilbur, forcing them from the country they had built. He had torn down the original walls and removed the ‘L’ from the country’s name. But Dream refused to recognize Manberg. After all he still had honour. The L’manbergians had fought fairly for their freedom, even if Dream believed their reasons were wrong. He refused for scammers to win in such an unjust way.

He gave Tommy the option of probation. He was going to leave it at that, a warning, a reason for Tommy to keep the peace. But Tommy had tried to blackmail him using Spirit, his horse. He hadn’t expected for Tommy to do something so hurtful, especially since Sapnap had done the same to him but with Henry.

But as always, Dreams crimes are the ones brought to light and multiplied by the people's whispers. While they quietly forget their own and mask them as mistakes. 

Every conscious decision they make is a mistake. 

Every conscious decision he makes is a planned attack. An unfair fight with no reason.

He exiled Tommy, he didn’t think people would mind as much as they did. After all Schlatt had done the same. He had exiled Tommy with an insane man. Dream had promised he wouldn’t leave Tommy with similar company and to ensure this decided to take it upon himself to stay with Tommy.

He knew he had to make sure Tommy hated him.

He blew up Tommy’s stuff, he didn’t need to give Tommy another reason to fight him. If he took the stuff then Tommy would probably try to fight to get it back, like he always did. Dream was sick of fighting. He would rather Tommy hate him, he would rather everyone hate him. Then to fight anymore.

Dream already had enough of his family to take care of, not that they would actually take care of him. In fact they would soon leave him high and dry when he needed them most. At the time though Dream didn’t know what the future had in store for him, he was sure his family, especially the closer members, were forever. 

‘He doesn’t care about us.’

He hadn’t meant to hurt them.

‘Just say you hate me.’

George was in danger, he hadn’t even been king for a day and he had already died.

He had gone to Techno, he had a plan to permanently remove L’manberg. They could create new countries. Countries not born and built in corruption. He had thought he would have to defend his TNT droppers but not a single person tried to stop him. They just watched as the explosives rained down on their precious kingdom.

He could feel himself slipping, his sanity slowly disappearing. His mind was cloudy with desolation and heartache. He realised every major event on the smp was over an item. Few in his Smp were loyal, many only helping others for self-gain. 

‘You’re a monster.’

Yes, he was a monster. He knew that, they had told him that enough. It was ingrained in his code, written in their history books.

The future generations will tell stories of the L’manbergian heroes. They would not hear of the man who was barely an adult but was thrust forward into the role of the protector, trying to keep his home safe. They would never hear of the man who tried to keep the peace, who tried to negotiate before initiating fighting. They would never understand the real reasons he made the decisions he did, only ever told of the reason they would do them.

They would always be described as a monster, the future children would make up stories of how horrific his face was. They would tell stories of a man with sharp teeth, eyes as black as the void, a clear reflection of his soul. They would tell stories of a man with no emotion or feelings covering everything with a psychopathic smile.

They would never know of emerald green eyes, tired from the lack of sleep and years of torment. They would never know of freckles that covered his skin, the shapes and pattern rivaled only by the constellations in the night sky. They would never know of the man with a kind smile and an addictive wheeze that could pry a smile out of the most serious of people.

They would always know Dream. The monster, who hurt people for his own enjoyment and blew stuff up only because he could.

THey would never know him, they would never know the real Dream. The man whose only goal was to protect his family. The man whose insecurities were thrown in his face in the form of insult after insult.

He had faced those insecurities but for once he had faced a battle of which he was not destined to be victor. He had lost himself to the voices of hatred. He no longer knew if he had any good, only bad. Everything was only ever bad.

Because he was bad.

The bad guy.

The villain.

Always the villain.

Always the loudest actions but never truly heard.

Never truly heard.

Never heard.

Never.

His thoughts were overwhelming. They jumbled and rocked his brain causing many headaches and days where he struggled to leave his base. Many nights left sleepless from nightmares and refusal to travel to the land of Dreams, to the land of truth. Refusing to watch his mind as it tried to show him he was falling apart.

Was he even together in the first place?

Had he broken into pieces?

Or was his whole being just a mess of pieces, that had merged incorrectly to form the monster he knew so dearly?

He started to journal in his books, he explained everything.

Everymove he made during the wars. He explained his reasoning. He explained why he did it. Every thought he had. He shared it. Everything that happened on the Smp from the beginning. From before Tommy, before Wilbur, before Sam, Callaghan and Alyssa. Even before George. He described setting up his borders, organising his home and safe proofing it. He described the first ever day, back when it was just him and George. Back when it was so much simpler. 

He hoped someday they might add the book to their libraries, although he knew it would never happen. He was selfish, that much was already clear. He didn’t want to be remembered as a monster.

Lastly he wrote an apology. It was short, he knew but he didn’t think an apology would fix anything.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be good enough.  
\- ~~Dream~~ Monster

He smiled, placing the book into his chest. He no longer planned to stay, he felt he had to go. Soon they would come asking for his admin powers. To make someone else admin so they could take his last life without worrying about the server dying too. THey would strip him of his immortality and connection to the server. 

They will find the book someday, hopefully. Or what was left of them.

Tommy’s most recent visit was unenjoyable, to say the least. He knew it would slowly fade out of his memory like the other visits have. He had sat against the wall, bloodied and bruised afterwards. He had taken everyone of Tommy’s punches, never throwing one of his own. But that would be expected of him. After all he had to be punished for every mistake, while nobody else faced consequences.

He was still human, controversy to everyone's belief. He listened quietly as Tommy laughed when he died. He listened to every insult that left his mouth while he tried to explain that he had to wait for Sam to come back.

He genuinely was not involved with TNT. He had zero contact with..anyone. He knew nothing about what was going on in his Smp. No way to protect it from dangers. But he was content; they would have told him if anything major was to happen on his server, right?

He stared at Tommy during the boy’s freak out. Here they were stuck together like in exile. Except this time it was Tommy destroying all his possessions. It was ironic really. He was more disappointed than anything. He thought Tommy was better than this. Better than he was. But here he was treating Dream like the scum of the Earth, at least Dream had tried to treat like a human. But nobody else would feel like that, they would probably pat him on the back and tell him he was brave for being trapped with Dream. 

He was thankful he had managed to save a couple of his books. His only possessions. The most valuable one’s he had. They would be able to read the books, if they wanted. Maybe they would finally get the closure they want or didn’t. Tommy would be able to collect the homework he assigned. They would be able to look through the remaining books which were full of doodles that didn’t belong in a prison cell or a notebook. He had always been good with a pencil. 

There was a picture of each of them, he had drawn them in his first week here, the fear of forgetting them causing him to spend three straight days drawing each and every one of them. He had thought the pain in his wrist at the time was bad. It was nothing compared to how he felt now. 

He could feel himself dying. The burns, scars and water marks were starting to stay after he respawned. The weight he lost from starving to death was permanent, not replenishing after his death. He knew these were signs that he was going to lose a cannon life to the prison. The only deaths to leave scars were canon. The three huge slashes across his chest and the dark scar on his throat, a daily reminder of the brutality of his deaths.

He would slip away within the next couple of days. They wouldn’t check on him for a long time anyway so it didn’t matter. He would travel far away, probably out East somewhere. He would build a small farm, maybe have a couple animals. He could have a proper house, instead of a hole in the ground. There would be no one around to grief it or steal his things. Nobody to kill his pets or remind him of the mutual hatred of himself.

It would be just him. 

Him and his voices. 

Him and his demons. 

Him and himself.

He smiled.

The smile.

It once represented happiness and joy. It now reminded people of destruction.

Funny really how he wore it while he destroyed himself.

He hoped he would see them again someday.

Maybe in another life they could forgive him.

Maybe in another life he could forgive himself.

Maybe he could even love himself.

He laughed at the thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think :)


End file.
